


The Desus Drabbles

by TheShitCook



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hopefully Regular Postings, M/M, Rating May Change, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluffy fluffiness, lovey dovey goodness, pre/ and post/, under 700-words each
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 19,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShitCook/pseuds/TheShitCook
Summary: Pre/ and Post/ little tidbits of fluffy Desus day-to-day life. Just because they're adorable and deserve to just have some cute downtime.





	1. He smiles All the Time

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I forget to post a lot, so if you don't see anything for a couple days and you wanna see more, remind me in the comments! I'm moving to another country right now so things are a bit chaotic, but I still love to hear from you guys so let me know! And if you have any prompts for me I would love those too. Love, love, love prompts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Desus and Maggie ships it! Gardening at Hilltop.

     Jesus groaned as he reached his arms towards the sky, fingers lacing together and knuckles popping as his back made similar noises in the stretch. His flimsy t-shirt hiked up his stomach slightly and a strand of hair fell from his messy bun to stick to the sweaty, heated flesh on the back of his neck. He was sure that by the end of this he’d be almost unrecognizable through the sunburn and brand-new set of freckles that were staining his skin from working in the heat for such extended hours. But the garden needed to be ready, and ready fast. Summer was their best opportunity to build up a stockpile of rations and when winter rolled around, they’d lose the ability to grow their own food.

     Jesus finally let his arms drop back down to his sides and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Daryl Dixon leaning against the side of his trailer. He smiled widely at the surly man and waved his hand high in the air, bringing one hand up to cover his eyes so he could see him properly. Daryl smirked in response and shook his head, winking one eye closed and giving a short wave in response. Rays of the sun played over the skin of his hand and forearm as it reached from the shade and into the daylight. His smile widened ever slightly and it made Paul’s heart swell happily to see.

     “Holy shit.”

     Jesus crinkled his eyebrows together in confusion and looked down to see Maggie, still on her knees and trowel in her hand. She wiped a smudge of dirt across her forehead as she gawked in Daryl’s direction, corners of her mouth quirking up and making her sun-kissed cheeks plump.

     “What?” Jesus chuckled, confusion laced in his tone.

     “Just happy to see him smiling again, that’s all.” Maggie answered, squinting up at the scout through the bill of her ball cap.

     “What are you talking about? He smiles all the time.” Jesus felt even more confused now and looked back in Daryl’s direction, only to see that the hunter had disappeared, like a ghost. For somebody that liked to call him a ninja, he sure seemed to fit the stereotype better.

     “Does he now?” Maggie mused, mouth reforming into a smirk that implied some sort of hidden knowledge. She returned to her digging and Jesus stuck his hands on his hips, cocking them slightly and tilting his head.

     “Seriously, does he not smile at you?”

     “Not like that.” She sighed. “I’m happy to see he finally found something to smile about though.” She winked playfully at him before stabbing at the ground again.

     Jesus would like to have chalked up the fluttering sensation in his stomach to heat stroke, but he knew that it was going to take more than a drink of water and an ice pack to calm this feeling.


	2. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Desus. Drunken antics at the Hilltop.

     As far as Jesus in concerned, there are six distinct types of drunks. He names these types as he sits on the roof of his trailer in Hilltop, overlooking the gathering of residents below. String lights and alcohol, music and dancing. A party for party’s sake. But everybody was having an enjoyable time. Some might say too enjoyable in some cases.

     Kal was the party drunk. Paul decides, as he watches the guard down his fourth shot, which usually wouldn’t be considered much if it weren’t the end of the world and any alcohol to dull the senses was a risk. But he didn’t have another shift until tomorrow afternoon, so he could sleep it off. Though his constant hooting and sloppy dance moves were starting to get annoying.

     Eric was the blissful drunk. Giggling like an idiot at everything his boyfriend says while he hangs from his arm like a set of monkey bars. He smiles brightly and huddles closer. Aaron looks like he’s strongly considering dragging him back to their temporary room in Barrington house and telling him to go the hell to bed before he makes a complete ass of himself.

     Crystal was the emotional drunk. Sitting in a bench not far from the party with Andy by her side, rubbing her back while she tears up again about Ethan. There’s nothing Jesus could go down there and say that would ease her sorrows, he’d already picked a side. He smirks solemnly as Andy leads her back to their trailer, tricking her into cracking a smile with a joke or two.

     Paul takes a draught of his beer and looks over at Rick and Michonne, who both seem to have had enough to dull their constant alertness, but they didn’t appear anywhere near drunk. Simply happy, and that was more than enough these days.

     Gregory had been the sloppy drunk, thank _Christ_. He’d gotten wasted before the party had even fully begun and headed to bed, knocking over a few tables and gardening pots on his way in. Jesus isn’t completely sure it was all unintentional. Thanks to his leaving though, everybody could loosen up a little bit and really enjoy themselves.

     Jesus has been told, before and after it all went to shit, that he was the parental drunk. No matter how much he had to drink, nobody could tell he was shit-faced because he was too busy taking care of everybody else. Holding people’s hair out of their face as they lurched their lunch into a toilet. Picking up all the discarded jackets and hanging them in their respective homes. Jesus thinks to himself that Rick seemed to be the same kind, if he ever got drunk.

     What Jesus never would have thought of, in the long year and change that he’d known him, is that Daryl is the slutty drunk. Currently, he’s braced himself against Paul’s back, bear-hugging him from behind and wrapping his legs around his hips to rest next to Paul’s. His lips press insistently against the nape of his neck and his fingers are twitching on Paul’s sides, itching to touch but having the decency to realize he’s still within the public eye. Paul teases him, goads him on and runs his hand down Daryl’s thigh, making the older man growl impatiently.

     Jesus thinks, in that moment, that his friends may have been wrong. Because he’s certainly feeling like a bit of slutty drunk right now.


	3. Midnight Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Jesus likes to sit on the rooftops of Alexandria's houses as he partakes in his snacks.

     Jesus takes in a deep breath through his nose as he stirs his cereal around in the bowl. He’s used some of the powdered milk that they found on a run a week back and the cereal with the longest shelf life. Honey oats. It’s still stale, even though they grabbed it straight from the factory, newest batch, unopened. There’s actually still a bit of honey flavour left. He shifts his position on top of the shingles, heels digging in and making a low, crunching noise. He’s not exactly sure what time it is, didn’t bother to check when he rolled out of bed, he just knows that it’s still pitch-black outside, and he woke up hungry. So, he made a snack… and sat on the roof.

     “Mmfh…” Jesus makes an agreeable sound around his mouthful, maybe just to add noise to the silent air. Just to hear _something_. He tucks his hair behind his ear and takes another bite.

     “The fuck are ya doin’?”

     Jesus nearly jumps when he hears Daryl’s surly voice from far below. He’s a little surprised that the older man caught him, considering he’s sitting around the back of the house and climbed out the window on the second level. Jesus uses his spoon to point to his bowl.

     “I’m eating cereal, the fuck are _you_ doing?” He teases and Daryl glares at him quietly, blue eyes barely visible in the dark. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

     “Could say the same fer you.” Daryl argues back and Jesus notices the cigarette perched between the fingers of his left hand. Maybe Daryl’s got insomnia… it’s not that far-fetched.

     “Woke up, was hungry, made some food. Now you.” Jesus points his spoon at Daryl now.

     Daryl’s quiet for a long time, working through his cigarette down to the butt and putting it out beneath his boot. Jesus thinks he’s about to light up another one, but he just sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs, broad shoulders shifting in the dull moonlight.

     “Nah.” It’s barely audible and he shuffles away a couple seconds after, leaving Jesus alone on the roof again, with just his thoughts and his soggy cereal.

     He never eats his midnight snacks alone again after that. Sometimes, they don’t say a word. And sometimes, they have lengthy (for Daryl at least) conversations, lasting until long after Jesus has finished his bowl. Jesus doesn’t notice that the cigarette scars on Daryl’s hands have finally had a chance to heal, it’s too dark for him to see. But Daryl feels it.


	4. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus gets Daryl glasses so that he doesn't have so much trouble reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I'v started posting chapters every couple of days. Was gonna do it weekly but I have SOOOO many now that it's gotta be more frequent than that. I love you readers, and I love your comments!

     He was just trying to help, honestly, that’s all it was. Daryl was always squinting at everything like it was so damn far away and he figured that a set of glasses might help. So, he brought home a few different pairs from his last run down to a pharmacy, assorted colours and a couple of varying intensities. He left them on the desk of their trailer in Hilltop and, once he’d noticed one of them had gone missing, he stuffed the rest back in his pocket and put them in storage. He figured plenty of the other residents would find use for them eventually.

     Now, it’s almost like he is being punished for his thoughtfulness. Every time he gets an eyeful of Daryl in those damn glasses, he gets so hard he feels lightheaded. Like all the blood in his brain just waterfalled down to his dick, crashing painfully. Caving in the heads of a few dozen walkers barely puts a dent in it anymore. And it isn’t like the two of them have time enough for Jesus to pounce on him whenever Daryl decided to thumb through a book or a list of supplies.

     So here he sits, in the driver seat of an old 4x4, while Daryl marks their progress on a dog-eared, coffee stained map. Glasses perched on his stupid, perfect face while he runs his palm over his scruffy chin and scans the paper. He leans particularly close to get a better look at some of the smaller writing, tongue peaking out from between his lips as he concentrates and Jesus snaps. He slams on the breaks so hard that those awful, beautiful glasses almost fly off Daryl’s face. He jams the car into park and yanks his seatbelt off, staring straight ahead.

     “What the hell are ya-” Daryl’s sentence is cut off by Paul grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and, almost painfully, pressing his lips against Daryl’s. Teeth clatter and tongues tangle as he better angles himself to steal the breath from Daryl’s lungs. Daryl moans as Jesus wraps his hands around the back of his neck and urges him closer. Daryl brings his hand up to move his glasses out of the way and Paul grabs his wrist to halt his actions.

     “Don’t you dare take those off.” He warns, breathlessly. Daryl is frozen in place for only a moment, eyes wide and confused. The gears in his head seem to jerk back into motion and he smirks, dirty and broad and so damn sexy that Paul has to lean forward and kiss it off him. Daryl drags the smaller man onto his lap and grips at his thighs tightly, kneading with his thumb and growling against his mouth. Jesus shrugs off his jacket and Daryl chuckles.

     “In the middle a’ the road, Sunshine?”

     “Yes, in the middle of the fucking road Daryl. You’re gonna fuck me in the middle of the goddamn road with those fucking glasses on until _I_ can’t see straight!” Jesus is ripping at the buttons of Daryl’s shirt as he speaks and Daryl is still smirking at him like he’s just won some sort of damn bet. He _tears_ Paul’s shirt in half, throwing it at the windshield and shoving him to lean back on the dashboard. He starts leaving sucking kisses down his chest and belly, all while looking over the frames of his glasses and Jesus is fucking _gone_.

     At the end of it all, they’re both sated and sweaty and Jesus now has no shirt to wear under his jacket for the remainder of the run. He couldn’t care less though as Daryl presses his face into the side of his neck, frames of his glasses leaving feint indents on his skin.


	5. Wrestling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Jesus and Daryl like to wrestle. I hate summaries, they give everything away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit 50 kudos so I got excited and wanted to post another chapter.

     It started with the couch.

     Jesus is laid out, head resting on one armrest and ankles crossed over the other, as he pages through another book. He’d run out of fiction for the time being and was currently working through something about how to perform magic card tricks. Slight of the hand stuff. When Daryl walks in. He’s covered in dirt and grease from working on his motorcycle for the last few hours and he’s making a beeline for the couch. He motions one of his hands in the direction of Paul’s legs and, without even taking his eyes off his book, Jesus shakes his head. Stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, and because a flustered Daryl Dixon is always entertaining.

     Daryl makes a sound between a growl and a huff, but Jesus doesn’t move. So, Daryl grabs his ankles in one hand and lifts them into the air, turning around and falling back into the cushions. He bends Paul’s legs back so that he’s now scrunched up over two cushions rather than spread out happily over three. Jesus glares over the top of his book and presses the sole of his foot against the side of Daryl’s face. Daryl blinks a few times, then shoves it to the side.

     Maybe a month or two ago, Jesus would never have though to be so ballsy with the surly hunter. But over time, their relationship has blossomed from wary comrades, to necessary friends, to close companions. Daryl lets down his grumpy exterior a little bit whenever Jesus is around, and Jesus stops putting on the cheery, everybody’s-best-friend vibe for appearances.

     And currently, Jesus wants the couch. So, he plans on keeping the damn couch.

     He shoves at Daryl’s shoulder with his foot, making his arm twist at an awkward angle until the larger man huffs again. Daryl grabs his ankle and keeps it hostage so that it can’t kick him again. Jesus uses his other foot and hooks it under one of Daryl’s knees, flinging it into the air. Daryl grins, wide and mischievous. Suddenly, Daryl’s hand is tangled in the front of Paul’s shirt and he’s been yanked to the ground, book flying to the side. And then they’re wrestling.

     Jesus wraps one of his arms around Daryl’s neck and switches their positions, then Daryl grabs his shoulders and rolls them back over. Jesus giggles as Daryl childishly shoves at his face with his open palm and Daryl snorts happily a couple of times. Jesus turns them so that they’re both on their sides, hands still tugging at each other. Somehow, Daryl’s hand makes its way down his side as he tries to turn them again and his shirt has rucked up just enough that when it makes contact, it’s with warm, bare skin. Jesus barely muffles a surprised noise, but Daryl still notices the sudden, soft heat beneath his palm. They both still and Paul’s eyes snap open to see that Daryl is blushing and looking anywhere but Paul’s face, focusing mainly on where his hand meets skin. Jesus stops moving, stops _breathing_ , as he waits.

     Daryl’s hand inches further up, so minutely, and only for a half second, before the trailer door swings open and Enid bursts through in a rush of teenage angst, not even looking in their direction as she heads directly for the kitchen. They pull away from each other like they’ve been burned and Jesus tries not to think too hard about how badly he wants to strangle the teenager. So instead, he gathers back up his book and cuddles up on a corner of the couch, feet drawn up and eyes flicking to where Daryl is nestled in his own corner, eyes far away and cheeks flushed.


	6. Pet Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus is trying to figure out a pet name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhh, I'm getting close to moving day. I'm so stressed! Hahaha

     Jesus has started experimenting with pet names. Adding them on at the end of sentences that don’t _really_ need them and shifting his eyes to Daryl’s face to gauge his reaction. They very greatly in ridiculousness as well. Some days, he’s babe. Others, he’s funny honey. Yesterday was Rockstar, and today, it’s Snookums.

     Daryl laughs openly at that one, mouth agape and head falling back as he guts Bugs Bunny. He turns his head to look at Jesus behind him, still chuckling, and the smaller man rolls his eyes.

     “Oh, come, _ON_!” Jesus shouts exasperatedly. “Give me something to work with here!” He pleads and grabs onto the back of Daryl’s shirt, shaking him over dramatically.

     “‘M givin’ ya feedback.” Daryl chuckles as he pulls back some of the fur and places it in a pile on the railing. Jesus lets go of his shirt and drops his arms to his sides. He’s acting petulant, annoyed. But he places a quick kiss to the back of Daryl’s neck and runs off, so Daryl knows it’s more for show. He keeps smirking to himself as he finishes off his rabbit.

     Later that night, when Paul’s laying on the couch and has his nose buried in a book, Daryl makes his move. He sneaks up behind him and leans on the arm, nuzzling into the side of his head. Jesus snuffles out a laugh and Daryl gently moves some of the hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and kissing at the tender flesh below it.

     “Hey there pup.” Daryl grumbles against his skin and Jesus flushes. Daryl looks up at the book and grins. “Whatcha readin’ lover?” He continues and Jesus groans, rolling his eyes. Jesus reaches back and tangles one of his hands in Daryl’s hair, scratching at his scalp playfully.

     “Nothing I can’t put down, Casanova.” He chuckles and Daryl moves further down to nuzzle at his collarbone.

     “Yeah?” He places a couple wet kisses across the soft skin he finds there. “‘S good ‘cause I wanted ta have some alone time with ya, bookworm.” Jesus snorts at that one and Daryl cuddles up just below his adam’s apple. “Somethin’ funny, hot stuff?” He grabs Paul’s book out of his hands and places it to the side as the younger man laughs even harder.

     “For fuck’s sake Daryl-”

     “Nu uh, no Daryl here. Jus’ puddin’ pie.” He corrects and Jesus kisses him to silence him. Jesus pulls away and smiles up at him, sea green eyes swimming with love and mirth. He looks honest and amazed and all the most wonderful emotions that Daryl never thought he would see directed at himself, especially not all at once. Jesus cups his jaw and his next words make his heart stop in his chest and his grip on Paul’s shirt tighten.

     “Shut up, beautiful.”


	7. Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Jesus is good with kids.

     “AAAGH! Ya got ME!” Jesus howls as he rolls around on the grassy lawn of Hilltop. He’s flailing overdramatically and gripping at his leg like he’s been shot, though he’s literally just been kicked in the shin by a five-year old. Said five-year old, Daryl believes his name is Johnathan, is now running around beating his fists against his chest and crying out like a native-American warrior. A little girl, just slightly younger than Johnathan, runs up to them and crosses her arms over her chest. Johnny almost seems to recoil at her very presence.

     “Johnny, you didn’t actually get him, he’s invincible! He’s just faking.” The girl, Stacy or something like that, reprimands the young boy and he seems to fall into a pout.

     “OH, but he DID get me!” Jesus corrects her. “I might not be mortally wounded, but he caught me completely off guard, so he did take me down.” He goes back to flailing around on the ground and Daryl covers his mouth to mask his humour.

     “But he CAN’T get you, you’re invincible!” She reinforces and Jesus goes limp on the ground, limbs spread out and staring up at the sky for a few moments. He sits up abruptly and motions for her to stand in front of him. She toddles over and he grabs her tiny hands with his.

     “I’m not invincible sweetie, nobody is. We’re strong, but we’re not invincible.” She nods and pouts at him, Johnny running up behind her to listen in. “It’s important to remember that. This way, we can get even stronger, alright?” She nods again and he runs his hand over the top of her head. “Good girl. Now, how about I teach you and your little boyfriend some cool ninja moves?”

     “Johnny’s not my boyfriend!” She shouts and stomps her feet.

     “EW!” Johnny cringes and runs away, probably to chase around one of the chickens again. Jesus is still holding Stacy’s hands and swaying them gently. She pulls away and cups her hands around her mouth, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. He smiles and nods.

     “I think he does, he just doesn’t know it yet.” He bops her on the nose with his index finger and she smiles back. “You just gotta be patient, that’s how all men are.”

     Daryl can’t help but feel like there’s a deeper meaning to what Paul’s just said but he doesn’t dwell on it for too long as Stacy plants a quick kiss on Paul’s cheek and runs off. He waves good bye and she waves back as she heads towards Johnny’s direction.

     “Good luck with _your_ man Jesus!” She giggles.

     Daryl does flush this time and when Jesus turns and meets his eyes unexpectedly, he finds himself wanting very much to run off and chase chickens himself.


	8. Tulip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus gets baby fever sometimes.

     Jesus has baby fever. This much is obvious. With the kids running around Hilltop and the Kingdom, baby Herschel and Judith, it’s just too much for one ninja to handle. Daryl knows he’s in particularly deep this week when Paul’s started actively volunteering for babysitting duty.

     A part of Daryl is very pessimistic about the whole idea. Reminding him of his own upbringing, his likelihood of becoming a good father, and the near impossibility of getting their hands on a child that Jesus can adopt and raise as his own. It was hard enough for a gay couple to adopt a child _before_ the world stopped turning. Now, even for heterosexual couples, having children is a gamble. It’s just not realistic anymore.

     The other part, the part of him that loves Jesus unconditionally and particularly loves the look he gets on his face when he lifts Judith into the air and blows raspberries on her pudgy tummy, is desperate to find a way. He wants to watch Jesus teach their child how to walk, how to talk, how to blow a walker’s brains out with a handgun. God, does he want it so badly.

     So, he keeps his eyes open for something that might tide them over. A kitten, a puppy, maybe even a rabbit. But no such luck.

     Then, on a solo run, he comes across a pet store. It looks raided, abandoned, hopeless. He goes inside anyway. His heart plummets into his stomach as he takes in his surroundings. Dozens of tiny skeletons, trapped in their cages. Some of the cages are torn open and empty, other than dried, flaking blood. The skeletons in the cages around them are huddled in their corners, as far from the doors as they can be. He looks away and swallows thickly, bile threatening at his throat.

     Then he hears it, soft shuffling behind a slightly cracked open door. Gentle clicking noises and fluttering wings. He pushes through the door slowly, knife at the ready for any corpses that might shuffle his way. The room is a mess, a storage room. Bags of pet food and toys are thrown about all over the place, smaller items that obviously weren’t met to be on the floor, scattered.

     And a pissed off looking cockatoo.

     It’s white and has plucked most of its own feathers out, most likely from stress. Patches of bare skin show through and there’s white scratch marks on it’s beak. Daryl can see a mark in his side where the feathers are growing differently, a healed battle wound. He approaches slowly, sheathing his weapon and putting out his hands in a show of vulnerability. The cockatoo looks suspicious at first, bobbing its head and squinting at the large man, like he’s sizing him up. It inches closer, squawking low and quiet, almost like a whisper. Like he’s asking Daryl if he’s one of _them._ Daryl puts his hand out further and, eventually, the bird flutters over.

     Daryl loads the car with whatever birdseed hasn’t already been totally mowed through by the quietly clicking animal. Said bird is now perched on his shoulder, silent as a goldfish and flicking its head around as if looking for signs of danger. Daryl grabs a cage, a basketful of toys, and any other equipment he deems important for bird care. Once everything is loaded, he opens the drivers side door and the cockatoo flutters inside, settling itself in the passenger seat.

     “Let’s getcha home, Tulip.”


	9. S'Mores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl has never had s'mores before, bless.

     Jesus finds out as they’re sitting around a fire pit, sipping coffee and hot cocoa as Rick tells old cop stories that don’t involve the horrors that lurk outside the walls. Just bad men, usually stupid, bad men. Robbing a bank without even attempting to conceal their identities, not having a getaway driver planned and running straight into a road block. Lots of stupid mistakes that even Jesus wouldn’t have made, and he was no master criminal himself. Eventually, he makes some offhanded remark about how much the situation reminded him of sitting around a campfire with one of his more favoured foster families. How they all told horror stories of their previous families and taught each other how to make s’mores. Daryl snorted and shook his head.

     “Ain’t never had one ‘a those.” Daryl grumbles and stokes the fire, making it flare. Jesus is so appalled by it that he goes silent for a moment, and then he resolves himself.

     “Well, I’m gonna have to fix that.”

     He spends the next few weeks paying special attention on runs for the perfect ingredients to make only incredibly stale s’mores. He manages across a Hershey’s bar, a couple of boxes of stale graham crackers, and more than enough marshmallows to have several roasts. They’d turned yellow and were more sticky than fluffy, but he hoped they would roast all the same.

     The next time they’re gathered around the fire pit near the edge of Alexandria, he comes in a bit late, arms full of ingredients and a couple sticks he’d found and cleaned. He drops them all at his feet and places his hands on his hips.

     “Daryl gets the first one, since he’s never had one before.” Jesus insists and looks at Daryl expectantly. Daryl picks up the box of crackers and the bag of marshmallows, looking between them and then back up at Jesus. It takes the younger man a moment to realize that Daryl has no clue what to do with them and Jesus bats himself in the side of the head for not thinking of that. He sits down next to Daryl and, wordlessly, begins putting one together for him. He roasts the marshmallow just a bit too much but he figures it might mask the staleness. After he’s put it all together he hands it to Daryl, who takes it and turns it around in his hands.

     “Looks like a cavity.” He snorts and Jesus continues to look at him, grinning from ear to ear when he finally takes a bite. He chews slowly, seeming like he’s considering it. He finishes it off and Jesus is worried for a moment that it was too sweet for him. That the graham crackers were stale past the point of being palatable or that he just didn’t like the taste. Daryl clears his throat and motions towards the assortment of out-of-date and sugary ingredients.

     “Show me again… how-how you make one.” Daryl’s face flushes slightly and though Jesus chalks it up mainly to the heat of the fire, he can’t help the fluttering in his stomach. They spend the rest of the evening finishing off two large bags of marshmallows and an entire box of graham crackers. Goofy smile permanently plastered to his face as Daryl wolfs them down.


	10. Pecks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Overly fluffy and ridiculously gay. Daryl, Jesus, and Tara are gardening in Alexandria. Heat stroke and shenanigans ensue!

     Jesus popped another strawberry into his mouth as he watched Daryl work on one of the Alexandrian garden beds. He had been in there with him until very recently, helping him pull at tricky weeds and trim off the dead branches on the tomato plants. He’d been working in the sun since much earlier though, so the heat was starting to get to him and Tara had practically shoved him to the sidelines. Now, he sat cross-legged underneath a small but thickly branched tree, working on a bowl of strawberries and bottle of water that Daryl had brought for him. He gave Daryl a quick kiss as a thank you and the hunter blushed before heading back to the crops.

     Jesus chewed around the leafy top and twirled it around in his fingers, looking between it and his boyfriend. Daryl was currently sporting, what might as well be, fuck all. Opting to wear exactly no shirt that day and a pair of jeans that made his ass look practically righteous as he bent over to cut at another tomato branch. So now, Jesus was sat underneath a tree, with the beginnings of a hard-on threatening and a bowl full of strawberry tops. And he was losing it.

     Daryl stood up straight and turned around, giving Jesus a view that almost knocked him unconscious. He squinted in his direction and brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

     “Y’alright?” Daryl hollered at him and Jesus rolled his eyes. He put the bottle of water to his lips and tossed one of the strawberry tops at the larger man with his other hand. What he did not expect, in a million years, was for the strawberry top to hit Daryl square in the centre of one of his pecks and bounce off as he flexed. Paul half choked on, half spit out the gulp of water in his mouth and fell into a coughing fit, bringing his wrist up to cover his mouth. Daryl cocked his eyebrow in concern for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a dirty smirk.

     It took him a few moments to calm down and get his breathing back to normal, but Daryl was still smirking at him once he’d finished. He picked up another strawberry top and glared in Daryl’s direction, flinging it at him and assuming it a fluke. However, Daryl moved straight into it’s path and flexed his chest muscles just in time for it to hit and bounce off. Jesus didn’t even see which direction it went as he doubled over, laughing until tears pricked at his eyes and he was hyperventilating like he’d just run a marathon. He didn’t stop tossing until he was out of strawberry tops and Daryl’s chest was smeared red with juice. Though the last top didn’t have to travel far as Daryl had slowly been walking towards him, caging him in with his arms and continuing to flex while Jesus snorted into Daryl’s bare forearms.

     “Daryl!” Paul giggled as Daryl nuzzled at the top of his head and ruffled his hair. Jesus wiped the strawberry juice off Daryl’s chest and licked it off his thumb.

     “Yer makin’ it real hard ta concentrate on my work.” Daryl growled and kissed at Paul’s jaw teasingly, nipping at the sweat-slick flesh. Paul shoved him back towards the garden beds and Daryl stumbled back, arms spread in surrender and smirking like a madman.

     “Stop! Go finish your work.” Paul reprimanded and Tara looked between them incredulously. Paul had the decency to flush as she stared at them and snickered.

     “Wow, that was really gay, guys.”


	11. I Miss...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl and Jesus have a new game they play together.

     “I miss Chinese take-out.”

     “… Miss watchin’ Tv.” He never got many channels, but wrestling was always on.

     “I miss having to cut the lawn.” Jesus leaves out the part where he did it to pay the bills.

     “Miss Five Guys.” The fries were the best part...

     “I miss video games. More specifically, my handheld, took forever to save up for that…”

     “Kinda miss Merle…” Daryl’s running out of things to miss. He’s not very good at this game.

     “I miss studying for tests… and then failing anyway.” Jesus chuckles and Daryl snorts.

     “… Miss tha drive-in.” He didn’t get to go often. Merle used to hide him in the trunk along with a shit-ton of dollar-store chips and pop. One of his better memories.

     “You used to go to the drive-in? God, I miss that too…”

     “Ya can’t use mine.”

     “Fine… I miss sex.”

     “…”

     “Do I win?”

     “Nah. Miss paintin’ Katy’s nails.”

     “Who’s Katy?”

     “… Was a girl in my trailer park, bit slow, couldn’ do ‘em ‘erself. Her ma was too busy ta do it and 'er pa was long gone… she liked purple an’ sparkles.”

     “…”

     “Do I win?”

     Jesus thinks for a moment. Then picks the Supreme bar off the ground from between them and holds it out towards Daryl. Daryl huffs and takes it, shoving it in his vest pocket and crossing his arms back under his neck. His eyes fall shut and Jesus takes the quiet moment to turn his head and enjoy the peaceful look on Daryl’s face. He’s loses this game a lot sooner these days…


	12. ReWrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Desus

     Daryl is not a sap. He doesn’t cry at chick movies. He doesn’t bitch about his problems and curl up with a tub of ice cream. He certainly doesn’t coo over small animals with fluffy tails and big ears. No, Daryl Dixon is not a sap.

     So, when his boyfriend starts to trace the words “I love you” over the scars on his back while he thinks Daryl is sleeping, he excuses the few tears that slip past his defenses as something else. Something that doesn’t make him a sap, or a crybaby, or _Darylina_. Because it doesn’t feel like weakness, and it doesn’t feel like fear. It’s something new. Something warm, and safe.

     And when Paul wraps his arms around Daryl’s waist and falls asleep just like that, the shaky, desperate breath that he lets out also isn’t sappy.


	13. Kids Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl is babysitting Judith and Jesus is fucking with Daryl.

     “C’mon… don’t ya wanna go ta sleep?” Daryl coos, bouncing Judith in his arms while she reaches for the tips of his hair. She get’s some in her tiny hands and he grunts as she tugs at it.

     “Why?” She asks, almost perfectly and without hesitation.

     “Cuz… ya been up all day, an’ yer tired.” Daryl reasons, kicking himself for trying to debate with a small child as he paces back and forth in Rick’s hallway. He feels ridiculous.

     “…Why?” She asks again and giggles when he huffs in frustration.

     “Cuz yer a little asshole an’ ran ‘round the whole damn house since yer daddy left me with ya.” He’s starting to get frustrated and the sudden chuckling behind him isn’t helping. “Jesus Christ…” He curses under his breath as he turns around, not even bothering to ask how he got in.

     “Told you to call me Paul.” Jesus smirks and Daryl mouths the words as he says them. “Should you really be teaching her words like that?” He reprimands, though he’s still laughing.

     “She don’t understand ‘em. Just knows, “why”.”

     “Why!” Judith interjects excitedly. Jesus bites at his lower lip as he looks between Judith’s pudgy, smiling face and Daryl’s scruffy, irritated one. It’s completely adorable.

     “So, it’s just about recognition and repetition.” Jesus muses and walks up a bit closer. Judith lets go of Daryl’s hair in favour of reaching for Paul’s. He leans forward so she can successfully grab some of the soft tendrils. He regrets it almost immediately when she pulls and Daryl snorts.

     “She ain’t gonna let ya go now.” Daryl shifts her in his hold so she can get a better grasp on Paul’s hair. Jesus grunts in displeasure, and then dawns a shit-eating grin.

     “Oh yeah? Why not?”

     “Why!” Judith giggles. Daryl rolls his eyes exasperatedly and glares at Paul.

     “Stop.” Daryl grunts and Jesus only grins wider, teeth baring through pink lips.

     “Why?”

     “Why!”

     Daryl frees up one of his arms and shoves Jesus at his shoulder, causing Judith to pull at his hair harder. Jesus yelps and it evolves into a laugh as his eyes flick back up to Daryl.

     “Now, why would you do that?”

     “Why!”

     “Oh, fuck off!” Daryl curses at the smaller man and immediately pales when Judith pipes up again. Jesus is also looking up at him with a mixture of shock and amusement, mainly shock.

     “Fuck!”


	14. Tulip Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl (somewhat reluctantly) and Jesus welcome Tulip to hilltop!

     Jesus has taken to Tulip like a fish takes to water, going about his daily activities at Hilltop with her forever perched on his shoulder. Her feathers are full again, though she’s still relatively quiet for a cockatoo. Daryl thinks that she’s retrained itself, considering the circumstances. Being a loud, squawky animal during times like these would get you killed faster than you could get the noise out. Tulip’s even learned a few words. “Walker”, “food”, and “poopies” being the most relevant. The last word is more of a warning that she likes to shout as she flies out the trailer window to do her business, then fly back in and sit pleasantly on her perch. “Food” is obviously meant to be used whenever she’s hungry, and “Walker” is a warning. Rather clever for a bird.

     She’s still no baby, but Jesus is more than satisfied.

     They ended up putting Tulip’s larger cage outside, knowing that she’s quiet enough and much prefers the fresh air after hiding herself away in the store for so long. The cage is hardly necessary though, she flies around Hilltop as she pleases, hardly ever daring to go outside it’s boarders for more than a few minutes. Once again, a very clever bird. A good alarm system too if a geek were to ever amble its way inside during the night.

     Daryl’s extremely satisfied with himself. This very thought is running through his mind as he motions for Kal to open the gates as he returns late from a hunt. A couple of small critters are slung over his shoulder and resting on his back. He hangs them on a hook outside of the trailer, deciding to skin them and prepare them early in the morning. He bangs off his shoes and goes through their front door, arms above his head to make his back pop.

     “DARYL I’M HORNY!” Sounds a shrill voice right next to his ear. Daryl flinches and jumps back, staring incredulously at Tulip, who’s perched triumphantly on the coat rack. He flushes with embarrassment and turns to glare at Jesus, who is now laughing uncontrollably on the couch. His arms are wrapped around his stomach and his hair is falling to the cushions as he lays back and kicks his feet around. Daryl groans and hangs his crossbow up, picking Tulip off the coatrack and taking her to her cage outside. She clucks happily and Daryl snickers.

     “Think yer funny? Plottin’ with that hippie.”

     She whistles her agreement and Daryl puts her to bed, leaving her a bowl of water should she need it overnight and some of her quieter toys. When he comes back inside, Jesus is still giggling like he just pulled the funniest prank in the world. Daryl rolls his eyes and ambles over to him, dropping to his knees to kiss him through his laughter. He pulls away and looks into his eyes.

     “I love you.” Jesus is still smiling as he speaks and Daryl kisses him again.

     “Love ya too, damn hippie.” He grunts as he wraps his hand around the back of Paul’s neck to deepen the kiss. He’s only able to enjoy the feeling for so long when a wolf whistle sounds from outside, high and extremely cockatoo-like. Jesus bursts into another fit of laughter and Daryl drops his forehead to the couch cushions. “How long do those damn things usually live?”

     “You love _her_ too.” Jesus giggles and Daryl grunts his reluctant agreement.


	15. First of many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ and a bit of post/ Desus.

     Kissing didn’t feel anything like what Daryl imagined it would. He’d had sex before. Drunk and sloppy, more to prove to Merle that he was straight. Not that Merle gave a shit either way, it was more about not letting the old man find out. Homophobic prick that he was. The girls that he’d been with where never the type to stick around or even call again the next day, so he never got the chance to try out the act of kissing itself, too intimate for a one-night stand.

     So, when Paul Rovia wrapped his hand around the back of Daryl’s neck and leaned forward, Daryl really had no idea what was happening. Looking back on it, his intentions would have been obvious to anybody and everybody watching. But Daryl had been thrown for a loop, frozen in place as soft lips pressed against his and Paul’s beard tickled the flesh of his chin.

     Daryl had returned late from a run. Really late, a couple of days. He couldn’t even recall why it had taken him so long to return, which must have been a good sign. Nothing too life altering. He, Tara, and Aaron rolled through Alexandria’s gate in the early morning, his companions in the big-bedded ford and himself on his bike. Daryl hadn’t even been fully parked when he heard Paul’s footsteps barreling down the road towards him. His hair was tied up messily and he was still in his sleep clothes, feet bare. He looked tired and frantic, like he hadn’t slept since he left.

     “Daryl!” Paul had shouted and Daryl’s stomach did that lurching, fluttering flip it did recently whenever Paul made it into his vicinity, or his thoughts… or his dreams. Daryl kicked out his stand and hopped off his bike, instincts he didn’t even know he had kicking in. The same ones that had him scoop up Carol outside Terminus and bear-hug Rick after escaping the Sanctuary. He opened his arms wide and Paul jumped into them without a second thought, holding him tightly and trembling as Daryl wrapped his arms around his waist. They’d stayed like that for a long time, catching their breath and feeling each other’s bodies pressed close and still living.

     Then Paul pulled back and Daryl’s mind was suddenly racing as he was dragged into a soft, desperate kiss. It could have lasted seconds, or hours. He wasn’t sure, he was too busy reeling to count the moments. Eyes wide and heart in his throat. Paul pulled back and looked up at him as if he were just as shocked at his actions as Daryl, who was blushing down to his collarbone and blinking down at him with wide, bright blue eyes. Paul stuttered for a moment, and cleared his throat. Daryl’s arms were still wrapped around his middle, maybe even a bit tighter than before.

     “I-I… I’m sorry Daryl, I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking. Shit, I’m-” Jesus tried to back away, but Daryl’s body was moving before his brain could catch up and he was tilting his head to kiss the smaller man again. Their noses bumped and he didn’t fit their mouths together right on the first try, but all the emotion was there and Paul relaxed, eyes fluttering shut as he guided Daryl to a better position. Daryl could faintly hear Tara and Aaron squealing and giggling as they scurried off, but he payed it no mind as Paul tangled his fingers through Daryl’s hair and stole the air from his lungs. It took Daryl weeks to admit to Paul that had been his first kiss, his first series of kisses, and by the time he did, he’d already had about a hundred more.


	16. Did it Hurt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ pickup lines!

     Daryl had gotten used to the constant flirting and cheesy pickup lines faster than he thought he would. They were almost endearing at this point, if they weren’t always followed by a shit-eating grin and possibly a pinch to his side. It didn’t matter what he was doing, fixing up an old car, getting ready for a hunting trip, planning a supply run with a large grouping of other people. Jesus would slide up next to him, appearing almost out of nowhere, staring at him with faux innocence, until Daryl responded to his presence. Whether it be with a grumbled out “What?” or an exasperated groan, Jesus would break out into a puckish grin and bat his eyelashes up at him.

     They always seemed to get increasingly inappropriate depending on how many other people where around them. Jesus seemed to have a kink for getting the older man nice and flustered in front of half of the still-living population. Comments ranging from as innocent as “If you were a vegetable you'd be a cute-cumber.” to as raunchy as “You must be Medusa because you make me rock hard.” Sometimes, all Daryl could do to respond was stare up at the sky and whisper “Oh my god…” before turning to shake the daylights out of the smaller man.

     That being said, he was extremely prepared to be “wooed” as he stood around a large table and ran his index finger from point to point on a spread-out map on the grassy lawn of Hilltop. Rick leaned over his shoulder and nodded along with his explanations of the proper routes they should be taking for their next run, when Jesus suddenly appeared at his side. He leaned on the table with his elbows and forearms, hands folded together as he waited for full attention. Daryl went completely silent and very still, as did the rest of the group huddled around the table. Daryl didn’t even have to prompt him this time, he went right into it.

     “So, did it hurt?” Jesus began and Daryl’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his skull. This was a lame one, even for Paul. Daryl almost found himself thinking that he was better than this.

     “When I fell from heaven?” He flicked his eyes over to Paul’s oddly stoic and less amused form. Daryl furrowed his brows and flinched back, slightly unnerved by the seriousness.

     “Nope.”

     “Wh-what?” Daryl stuttered out gruffly and Jesus continued to keep his gaze forward.

     “When you crawled your big ass out of hell and ate my goddamn snickers bar.” Jesus turned his head to look directly into Daryl’s eyes and the larger man practically squeaked before bolting in the opposite direction. Jesus followed in hot pursuit, catching up to him quickly and tackling him to the ground. They tumbled around in the grass for a while and the group cackled with laughter not far behind them. Jesus eventually got the upper hand and straddled Daryl’s hips, eyes deadly and threatening. Daryl cleared his throat and raised his hands in surrender.

     “What’re ya doin’ tonight besides me?!” Daryl grunted out and Jesus went still for a moment. After what felt like an eternity, he burst into laughter and rolled off Daryl, wrapping his arms around his belly to calm his amusement. Daryl joined him in his mirth, snorting and nuzzling against the side of Paul’s throat as the smaller man batted at him playfully. Maybe he doesn’t mind those cheesy pickups lines so much anymore.


	17. Awe Shucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Domestically shucking corn on the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'v been gone for a really long time. And I'm really sorry for that. I'm studying abroad right now and over the last two months I'v been settling in to the new country relatively alone. But it's slowed down a little now so I'm going to try to continue posting again. Get ready for a drabble bomb.

     Jesus is out of his league. Sitting on the steps of Barrington house with an enormous bucket of un-shucked corn, an empty pot, and a second bucket surrounding his feet. The Hilltop is having a cookout tonight, and it’s Paul’s job to shuck the corn. It’s too bad that he’s never shucked corn before in his life. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Pull the husks and the stem off, chuck it in the pot. He takes a deep breath and releases it quickly, then picks up an ear of corn and gets to work.

     “Ya still on number one?” Jesus whips around to make eye contact with the owner of the surly, gravely voice. Daryl’s standing on one of the top steps, arms crossed as he glares down at the set up. Jesus flicks his eyes between Daryl and the ear of corn, then he nods dejectedly. Daryl rolls his eyes and drops to the bottom step. He pulls a pack of cigarettes and his zippo out of his jacket and sticks one between his lips, lighting it up and inhaling slowly. He leaves it perched in his mouth as he glares at the man now only a foot or so away from him and the cob in his hands.

     “Ya didn’ even pull all the hairs out of it.” Daryl grumbles and pulls an ear from the bucket. He yanks off the husks and throws them into the husk bucket. Jesus leans forward with his elbows on his knees as he watches the hunter and grabs a new cob for himself. It’s a bit odd. Domestic even. He’s so used to watching the surly giant stomp around the battlefield that seeing him in such a calm, tranquil environment is throwing him off. Smoke pours from the corner of his mouth as he breaks off the stem of his cob and starts to pull out the silk. It kind of reminds Jesus of all the times he’s watched the hunter clean out his game, movements calculated and sure. Daryl flicks his gaze over to Jesus, then back to his cob while grumbling something under his breath. He’s silent for a while, but Jesus just keeps staring at him gently.

     “Watcha lookin’ at? Gonna get these done er what?” He cracks his cob in half and Jesus furrows his brows as he watches. “Ya never done this before or somethin’?” Daryl sounds like he’s joking but Jesus shakes his head. “Seriously?” Daryl’s dangerously close to smirking at him and Jesus shrugs, looking back down at his own ear of corn.

     “Just never got the chance to I guess. Most of my foster families where more of the “fend for yourself” kind. Meal prep was pretty limited to whatever I could microwave… or steal…” Jesus laughs nervously and Daryl stills for a second. He tosses his cob halves into the pot and grabs a new one, turning slightly more towards Jesus. His eyes snap up to him and then back to the fresh ear. Jesus presses his lips together tightly as he watches. He expects Daryl to be quiet as he works. And for most of the process, he is. Then he gets to pulling out all the little hairs and he starts to speak. Low and like he’s sharing something he shouldn’t be, just between them.

     “Got ta do this a lot more when mom was still kickin’… corns cheap an’ easy ta cook too, so Merle would get it for us in tha summer.”  Jesus listens intently as he works on his own cob. “Shit was like candy for me, ‘s so sweet.” He smirks a little and Jesus huffs a laugh through his nose. He wants to ask more about his mom, and about Merle. What growing up was like. But he doesn’t want to push. He’s only known Daryl for a couple of months now but he can tell that he’s not usually one to share. He smiles, small and genuine. Honoured to know just a little more.

     Daryl snaps his cob in half again and tosses it into the pot, pink dusting his sun-kissed cheeks.


	18. Tasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus is a food tease.

     Jesus wasn’t doing it on purpose, not in the beginning at least. It was Daryl that was letting the situation appear more twistedly sexual than intended. Really, there was no way to eat a banana without drawing attention to yourself, and the fact that the juice of Alexandria’s fresh apples tended to cascade down his chin and drip to his face mask wasn’t his fault.

     It took him far too long than he’d like to admit noticing how Daryl would shift between his feet awkwardly whenever he’d partake in any phallic or juicy fruit. He’d finally realized as he was taking a moment on one of their couples runs to snack on a peach he’d picked fresh from a tree in some lady’s backyard. He’d climbed it with ease, not unlike a monkey, and tossed a few down for Daryl to place in a basket he’d found not far from said tree. They’d plant the pits at Hilltop or the Kingdom once they’d polished off the fruit surrounding them, but Jesus figured he’d indulge in one before continuing with the scavenge. He’d dropped to the ground almost soundlessly and took a large bite, juice running down his jaw and collecting at his chin. He brought his thumb up to wipe it away and sucked it clean, tongue peaking out and teeth grazing.

     “Oh, fer _fucks_ sake…” Daryl groaned and whipped around, storming off in the direction of the truck and tossing the basket in the back. Jesus raised his eyebrows questioningly but Daryl didn’t say a word. Just shoved his fists in his pockets and ran into the house to raid the kitchen. When it finally hit him, he smirked wide enough to make his face hurt, eyes glinting playfully.

     He spent the next week trying to subtly up his game on sexualizing everything that he ate in front of his boyfriend. He licked his lips regularly after finishing off a drink, making eye contact with him _accidentally_ and smiling innocently. He’d stuff bread or granola bars in his mouth until his cheeks puffed out and his swallows where audible to more than just his own ears. He’s particularly proud of the time he was eating beans on toast when some of the sauce _accidentally_ ran down his chin and he chased it with his tongue. Daryl had choked on his own food.

     Daryl finally broke when Paul picked at the remainder of his squirrel stew with his bare hands, fingers running over the bowl and collecting the soup to suck off his thumbs. He grabbed the last carrot that had been floating around brought it to his lips, mouth just barely wrapping around the tips of his fingers as he finished it off. He flicked his gaze over in Daryl’s direction and the hunter slammed his fist on the table, standing up from his spot abruptly and stomping over to Paul’s side of the table. He dragged Paul from his seat and turned him around, slamming him on the table and wrapping Paul’s legs around his hips. He kissed him hard, teeth clattering and tongues tangling as he ground against him and growled possessively.

     Jesus snickered against his lips and planned their next meal.


	19. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Creating better habits.

     The two drinks aren’t similar, in any way. Besides the bitterness. Booze is cold, usually, and coffee’s hot. Booze, at least at some point, gives him a bit of a buzz. Coffee, not so much.

     It makes Jesus feel better though, so he’s making the switch. Even at night, when he just wants to wind down and not pump caffeine into his system, he goes the extra mile to brew a pot.

     And Jesus always drinks with him.

     Daryl won’t admit aloud that it’s a bit tough at times. Jesus can see it. They don’t need to put words to it. And Daryl never brakes, not so long as he has Jesus with him.

     He’s tried putting sugar in it. Powdered milk. He finds that he likes it best black though. Early in the morning, swinging on his porch, with a cigarette in his opposing hand. Jesus doesn’t appreciate that habit much either, but he knows that’s not something that will disappear so easily. He always lets Jesus sleep through the first cup. Getting up long before the sun rises and checking in on him quickly to make sure he’s still asleep. By the time he’s settling himself down for a second, the younger man has roused himself and shuffled down the stairs. He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he wanders through the front door and Daryl passes him a fresh brew in his “WWJD” mug. It’s still hot, as if Daryl knew when he’d be up.


	20. Sore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus is tough.

     Jesus is a tough guy. Everybody is aware of this. Jesus knows that with a well enough placed kick, he can take down a walker, and possibly another living person. His skills with a knife are practically unparalleled, his tongue is sharp and his charisma has gotten him out of many sticky situations. The very fact that he was able to challenge Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon at the same time over a truck is proof enough of this fact. He’s strong-willed too. Putting up with Gregory and Negan for months, maybe close to a year. All in all, Jesus is tough. In more ways than one and in all the places that it counts.

     So, when he wakes up one morning and tries to roll out of bed only to have his legs give out and his ass hit the floor, Jesus knows that it’s not because he isn’t tough.

     It’s because Daryl Dixon is just a bit tougher. Especially a horny Daryl Dixon.


	21. Sasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Jesus is grieving.

     Daryl almost missed it. Nearly slept right through it. The soft noises coming from the kitchen on the first floor. At first, it just sounded like shuffling, maybe a mouse. A whimper broke through, then it was silent again. Daryl, ever so slowly, pushed back his covers and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his pajama pants and socks to make his footsteps quieter, then padded down the stairs to the first floor. The sounds became much more prominent. Low sniffles and sharp, short intakes of breath. He pressed his lips together in a tight line and kept his own breathing controlled as he came around the corner, heart stopping in his chest.

     Jesus was curled up tightly on the kitchen floor, one of the cabinet doors open across from him, where he usually kept the granola bars and cereal. He was dressed in his sleep clothes and his hair was tied up in a bun that now looked tangled. The toes of his bare feet were stretching and curling where they turned into each other and his heels were pressed against his thighs. His arms wrapped around his torso and his forehead was pressed against his knees, face hidden. There was a wet, choking noise and Daryl felt disgusting for just standing there, watching him. He shifted between his feet and the creaky floorboards alerted the younger man to his presence. Paul’s entire body stiffened and he moved his head just so he could see who it was that caught him. He was silent for a long time, like he couldn’t even gather the strength to talk.

     “I…” another minute of silent sobbing. “You-uh… told me I could help myself when… when I got hungry and I just…” Daryl inched a bit closer and squatted down to Paul’s level as he spoke. Quiet and broken. “I finally got my appetite back a bit so… I just…” He pressed his lips together and, up that close, Daryl could see the deep bags and itchy redness around his eyes. The bright, blue-green irises devoid of the usual mirth and looking far away and moist.

     “Kinda lost the nerve-” Jesus swallowed down a sob, a supressed hiccup. “‘M sorry…”

     Daryl reached into the open cupboard and snagged a bar, placing it down next to Jesus and pushing the slighter man’s body forward. Jesus tensed a bit, and then a bit more when Daryl slid behind him. He moved Jesus gently, seating him in his crossed legs with his back pressed to his chest. Jesus settled back slowly, heart-wrenchingly slow, and then all at once, breathing suddenly shaky and loud. His body went slack and he relaxed back against Daryl as he started to finally let go. An entire damn of emotion breaking through violently. Daryl picked back up the granola bar and ripped it open, breaking off a piece and holding it out for Jesus.

     It took him about two minutes to get up the strength to grab the first bite, fingers shaking as he reached out and attempted to muffle himself. The rest of them became easier and easier over time as he sobbed around the small mouthfuls. His desperate whimpering hardly waned, echoing throughout the empty kitchen. Daryl pressed his nose into the nape of Paul’s neck. A comforting gesture that surprised even himself. Eventually, when the food was finally finished, Daryl laced his now empty hands with Paul’s and wrapped them back around his shivering torso. He didn’t let go until he was sure the younger man had cried himself to sleep, exhaustion finally taking over. Daryl picked him up and carried him to the second bedroom, Paul’s sleeping face pressed against his collarbone as his breathing evened out and he snuffled gently.


	22. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus has nightmares.

     Daryl hates nights like these. More than anything.

     Nights where Paul jitters awake and tries to roll himself further away from Daryl, shifting to the other side of the bed and burying his face in one of their pillows. He would try to stifle his sobs as best he could but a just-barely too violent shake would alert the hunter and he’d be on the younger man in a heartbeat. Wrapping his arms around the scout and burying his face in the back of his neck, he would whisper whatever came to mind to bring him back. Sometimes he would tell him about his day, others he would talk about how big Judith was getting. He was never sure what would work and ended up going through his list regularly.

     “I’m fine. I’m okay. Don’t worry babe.”

     It was always the same. He was always fine. But he never was. And Daryl would just nod and hold on tighter, until Paul stilled and his breathing evened out again.

     He would never tell the hunter what he saw, so he assumed it to be something unthinkable. Especially with the way Paul would flinch at Daryl’s first touch, entire body going tense and curling in on itself. He would relax when Daryl would shush him quietly and run his fingers over his shoulders, not offering up too much physical attention out of fear for scaring him more.

     Paul would eventually, very slowly, turn around and press his nose to Daryl’s collarbone, breathing in shakily and hiccupping into warm skin. Daryl would kiss his forehead and smooth his hand over his head soothingly.

     Sometimes Paul would fall back asleep, sometimes not. Daryl didn’t mind staying up with him the rest of the night and just holding him. What he minded was how exhausted it made his lover the next day, dragging his feet around Hilltop like a damn walker. Those around him had no idea of course, asking him favours left, right and centre until Daryl would scare them away with a heated glare and force the scout to take a power nap in the trailer.

     Yes, Daryl hated nights like these. But what he hates even more is the idea that he might not always be here to help him through them.


	23. Fender Bender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl learns a bit about Paul's past.

     Something that a lot of people don’t know about Jesus is that he’s been in a car crash.

     It was a long time ago, years before the world went to shit, but his injuries from it still bother him from time to time. When it gets cold out, his shoulders get stiff, and when it gets too hot, the muscles in his left calve seize up a bit. He thinks it’s more of a mind trick that he’s playing on himself, but it still affects him, even though he tries to play it off.

     It’s most prominent when he’s riding passenger in the car. Daryl seems to notice it more than when anybody else is driving, though it might just be because he’s more in tune with Paul’s mannerisms now. The way his grip tightens on the door handle, then he moves his hair out of his face and presses his lips together tightly. Like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. Daryl doesn’t think too hard about how much he notices about Paul’s discomforts, he chalks it up to his highly tuned instincts when it comes to his friends and family. He’s still not sure where Paul fits in those two categories, but apparently, his subconscious thinks that he’s important.

     At first, Daryl just assumed for him to be a restless passenger. There’s plenty of people who feel more comfortable with being the driver, more in control that way. But then one day, him and Jesus went on a run together, just the two of them. Daryl drove up to the Save-on-Foods and, he’ll admit to himself, got a little too close to the car in the parking space in front of him.

     “STOP!” Jesus had shouted, and Daryl slammed on the breaks so hard he got whiplash. Daryl looked over at his passenger, who looked just as stunned as Daryl felt for the outcry. Jesus went silent as he calmed his breathing and smoothed his hands over the top of his head. Daryl noticed those hands were shaking, so he didn’t say anything, just waited. Eventually, Jesus hopped out of his seat to kick open the doors of the foods store, walkers be damned. Daryl followed, fully expecting the subject to be dropped. Then, as he was loading a cart with long decarbonated soda and expired granola bars, he received an apology, and a somewhat reluctant explanation.

     It’s one of the many reasons that Jesus kept his eyes closed as Daryl and Rick drove him back to Alexandria on that first night. And, he nervously admits, one of the reasons he didn’t immediately try to push himself from Daryl’s shoulder when Rick swerved him in his direction. It had been one of the only comforting moments on an otherwise stressful ride for him. Daryl wanted to be uncomfortable with that admittance, but he wasn’t. Even when Jesus refused to give him any of the _other_ reasons that he stayed put on Daryl’s shoulder… _“unconscious”_.

     Daryl drove a little more carefully from then on. Eyes flicking over to the smaller man for any signs of discomfort whenever he’d park or round a sharp corner. Even Rick started to notice that Daryl always let Jesus pick where he wanted to sit in the car on runs that included a larger group.

     Nobody says anything about it though. It becomes one of the many unspoken traits of Daryl and Jesus’ relationship.


	24. Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus likes weird music...

     Paul’s taste in music is erratic. It’s completely awful and all over the place. Jazz, indie, rock, techno, metal, pop, he listens to all of it. Every genre under the sun, and he knows the name and artist of almost every song, the lyrics, it’s history. What he listens to always depends on his mood though. So, whenever Daryl is in the car with him, he knows exactly what’s going on in his head, whether Jesus intends it that way or not.

     If he’s having a bad day, he listens to jazz, because it calms him down.

     If he’s feeling excitable and giddy, he likes pop. It goes with the mood, his… vibe.

     When he’s trying to psych himself up for something, it’s rock music. Loud and heavy.

     If he’s feeling frisky, he turns up the R&B, specifically “Pony” because it always makes Daryl blush and pull the car over to fuck his brains out. Even if it is a bit corny.

     Right now, though, Daryl isn’t completely sure what Jesus is feeling. He’s laying in the bed of the truck, legs facing in and arms thrown over the back as he stares up into the blue sky. Daryl’s driving slowly, looking into his review mirror occasionally to make sure the younger man is okay. His hair billows out behind him as country music blasts through the speakers.

     Daryl’s only heard him listen to country one other time. Well, he’s only caught him the once, he’s sure there’s been others. Back at the trailer, tears forming in the corners of his blue-green eyes as he lounged on the couch with his earbuds plugged in. The two of them hadn’t been as close then, so Daryl had let him be. Dropped off the supplies he’d picked up on his run and gone out for a smoke, or two. When he came back in, he checked Paul’s MP3. Johnny Cash.

     Now though, now he wants to know. So, he slows the car down enough that he can hear Jesus if he decides to say something, anything. The younger man seems to notice the shift and lifts his head enough to meet Daryl’s eyes in the mirror. The wind has blown away the tears, but his eyes are red and puffy. Daryl sets his gaze back to the road and Jesus crawls forward to stick his head through the back window, blown out over time from walker and human attacks.

     They’re on their way to pick up some more farming supplies that they’d left behind on their last run. It will be useful for the upcoming months. It’s still a ways out though so Daryl’s in no hurry to get the younger man talking. Always lets him go at his own pace.

     Jesus is silent for a while. The sound of country music and gravel crunching underneath the tires heavy in the air as they drive. Daryl is starting to think that maybe Jesus isn’t ready to talk about it yet. And that’s fine. He just keeps on driving, blasting Willie Nelson through the fuzzy speakers of the ford. Daryl lights himself up a smoke, and Jesus finally speaks.

     “My mom used to like country. Before she died.” A simple explanation, almost a whisper, under ten words. But Daryl knows what country means to Jesus now. So, he reaches back to hold onto his hand, squeezing reassuringly and glancing at him through the mirror.

     If Jesus is feeling lonely, he listens to country.


	25. Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Jesus gets headaches.

     “Daryl, if you don’t cut it out right now, I’m gonna hang you by your ankles and beat you like a goddamn piñata.” Jesus warns as he lifts the cold pack he’s currently got laid over his forehead. He peers out from underneath and Daryl snickers, stacking another book on top of his card-tower like structure of novels. Jesus is glaring at him like he thinks his gaze alone is enough to cook him, but Daryl isn’t the kind to shy away from a challenge. So, as Jesus stretches himself out on the couch and glares past the top of his feet, Daryl stacks another book on his tower.

     Looking at this from the outside, one might think that their personalities had switched. Like some sort of “Freaky Friday” situation. But, not so. You see, Jesus can be a real prick when he’s got a headache, and Daryl can be a right shit when Jesus is being bitchy. And Jesus is no longer a “prick” in the usual sense. Not at all like the mischievous, silver-tongued prank-master that he portrays regularly. He turns into a sneering, grumbling mess, and Daryl, in a way, loves it.

     In the view of the general public, Jesus tends to tamper down his bad attitude a little more. But when it’s just him and Daryl, he holds back nothing. After one particularly throbbing ache took him over on a run and he chewed Daryl out for a good ten minutes straight, Daryl started goading him into it. And it started to give the scout an outlet, one that he only really took advantage of when in a massive amount of head pain. And one might think that screaming for five to ten minutes would make the headaches far worse. But, once again, this is not so.

     Daryl’s sure, by this point, that Jesus’ headaches are caused by stress. Stress, and lack of venting. So, by the time he’s done screaming his lungs out and, possibly, throwing a few punches in Daryl’s direction, his aches have dulled and his breathing has evened out.

     “I swear on my fucking life, Dixon, you stack one more book-” Jesus raises a finger and Daryl presses his lips together in a tight line as Jesus scolds him. “I will feed you to the walkers.”

     Daryl picks up Paul’s favourite copy of “The Lord of the Rings” and holds it up so that the younger man can see the title. Jesus wants to shake his head as a warning, but his brain feels like it’s imploding and Daryl’s already placing it on top of his tower, so it doesn’t matter anymore.

     His outcry this time ranges between Daryl’s lack of consideration for order, to the incapability of most of Hilltop’s residents in battle, to Gregory’s bullshit, something about not getting laid, then back to the book tower. He’s loud enough that Daryl’s getting concerned that people outside of the trailer might hear, but he says nothing. Just sits besides his tower and grins like he’s won some damn game. By the time Jesus is done, his face is red and his hair is all over the place. His chest is heaving as he pulls in deep breaths and his whole body is relaxed into the couch.

     Daryl gets up from his spot on the floor and ambles over to the younger man, gives him a solid couple of pats on one of his shoulders, and then lets his hand rest there for a moment. Jesus looks up at him and sighs dejectedly.

     “You’re a fuckin’ asshole.” He growls out and Daryl snorts, lips quirking up as he nods in agreement. He pulls away to put away the book tower as Jesus closes his eyes and falls asleep.


	26. Tulip Pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl gets Cock(atoo) blocked

     Her timing is always impeccable. Like she’s waiting for the exact moment that Daryl’s decided to make a move on his lover to fly in and start with her comedy shtick. She thinks she’s a comedian now. A curious look combined with her head cocked just so, those damn clucking noises, like she’s _offended_ that Daryl likes to be intimate with Jesus from time to time. A blaring, squawking noise, a lowly muttered “food?”. For a creature that’s so adamant about always flying in just as things are starting to get hot and heavy, she sure loves to switch it up.

     Daryl thinks he’s finally safe, for the first time in well over a week. The front door is shut and locked, windows closed and Tulip is with Maggie at Barrington house. Little Herschel loves to pet the cockatoo’s soft feathers, and Tulip loves to be pet, so it works out. He’s also not quite yet at the “violently grab everything” phase so his touches are still soft enough for Tulip to go without complaint. Daryl’s currently in the middle of riddling Paul’s inner thighs with hickey’s. The younger man is spread out on their bed and gripping at the pillows beneath his head.

     Daryl gets particularly close to where Jesus is practically begging for Daryl to touch him, sucking a dark, purple hickey just below the hem of his boxers on his left leg, when he hears it.

     *Fwup, fwup, fwup, fwup, fwup* … *tap, tap, tap*

     Daryl shuts his eyes and furrows his brows together, decidedly not looking in the direction of the bedroom window. Jesus, however, turns his head so suddenly that Daryl worries he might snap his own neck. Jesus pats his shoulder and Daryl shakes his head weakly.

     *tap, tap, tap*

     Damnit, Tulip is not perched on the window. Tulip is not tapping on said window with her stupid little bird claws and cocking her head like she _doesn’t_ know what she’s doing. Tulip is not here, Tulip is with Maggie, they’re both imagining it.

     *tap, tap, tap*

     “Daryl-”

     “Oh, for _fucks_ sake!” Daryl growls from between clenched teeth and pushes off the bed. He storms over to the window and opens it up. Tulip flies inside and perches herself on the headboard just above Jesus, eyes blinking up at him innocently. Jesus scratches her neck.

     “Maybe she’s jealous?” Jesus suggests with a shrug. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?” Jesus looks up at her and smirks a bit. Daryl grunts and rubs his hand over the scruff of his chin. He thinks for a moment, then shuffles back to the bed. He straddles Jesus just like he had been before the interruption and starts to kiss down his bare chest. “I-In front of her?”

     “Mm-hmm.” Daryl mutters as he moves to Paul’s nipples. “Not fuckin’ stoppin’ now.” He’s about to move down to Paul’s abdomen when Tulip speaks up.

     “HARDER!” She squawks. Daryl nearly puts his fist through the headboard.


	27. I Like...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ But it's sorta on the edge of post/  
> Daryl and Jesus play another game.

     “… Like not havin’ ta pay fer smokes. Jus’ gotta find ‘em. Can smoke where I want too.”

     “I like my book collection. Would never have gotten this big before.” Jesus chuckles.

     “Like takin’ care ‘a tha horses.” Daryl mutters out as he stares up at the frosty, grey sky.

     “I like picking locks. That hobby used to be majorly frowned upon.”

     “Ya picked locks before?”

     “That’s not the game, Daryl.” Jesus chuckles again and Daryl huffs, scratching his jaw.

     “Like havin’ mah own room.”

     “You have your own house.” Jesus corrects and Daryl shrugs. “Back in Alexandria?”

     “Didn’ even have a room before, had a couch, still counts.”

     “…”

     “Ya run out again?” Daryl smirks at the idea of winning so early in. Though, he kind of prefers it when Jesus wins. Then he at least knows the younger man is eating.

     “I like getting to use my ninja moves outside the dojo. Only got to use ‘em once before.”

     “What happened?” Daryl asks before he really thinks, biting his tongue after. Jesus is silent.

     “…” Daryl’s about to change the subject, then Jesus takes a short breath. “One of the foster families… beat the kids whenever they got “ _outta line_ ”.” Jesus imitates a much thicker, twangier southern accent and Daryl brings his thumb to his lips, forgetting he’s got gloves on. “He pushed too far with Sarah once… I’d been taking lessons in private so he wasn’t ready for it. She was safe last I saw but… nobody wanted me again after that.” Jesus laughs sadly at the end and Daryl can hear the crack in his voice. He turns his head minutely. Paul’s eyes are shut and his jaw clenched, his nose is red with the cold and his toque is pulled down over his ears. Daryl looks back up at the sky directly above him, overcast with the frigid winter. He moves his arm until the back of his gloved hand brushes Paul’s, pushing aside the granola bar resting between them. Jesus let’s out a shuddering breath, then a quiet hiccup, and laces their hands together.

     “Sorry.” Jesus mutters, a bit higher than his usual voice.

     “Nah.” Daryl doesn’t let Paul’s hand go as silence stretches out between them.

     “Sarah’s probably dead now…” Jesus finally mutters out.

     “If she’s learned anythin’ from you, she’s just fine.”


	28. Shush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl makes Jesus shut up for once.

     Jesus hasn’t shut up since he woke up this morning. Daryl’s not quite sure what it is, but he’s been motor mouthing since five, and its already past noon now. Talking nonsense about whatever is currently in front of him, whatever just happened, and whatever crosses his mind the exact moment that Daryl makes it into his vicinity. He started with his plans for a greenhouse he wanted to build in Hilltop with its own source of power so they could continue to grow fresh crops through the winter. Then it was plans for a run he wanted to go on with Daryl. Then it was whatever movies he used to watch before the dead started coming back. Daryl remembers a specifically long tangent he went on about the Boondock Saints and The Royal Tenenbaums.

     Currently, he’s talking about how much he misses Wendy’s chocolate frosties.

     “Never the vanilla though. _God_ , I hated the vanilla, tasted like cold paste. Strawberry was okay sometimes, but if I got to pick, it was always chocolate…”

     Daryl is listening silently as they walk down the streets of Alexandria, box of Judith’s old onesies and teething toys in his arms that he’s taking down to the truck. They’re pink and Maggie’s baby, little Herschel, is a boy, but he’s hardly likely to complain.

     Jesus starts going off on another tangent. Daryl’s not sure how he does it, but he’s somehow branched off from frozen, dairy deserts to how he’d like to decorate their backyard.

     “Like, if we had a couple of fruit trees, we could _easily_ stock up on jams and stuff for winter. And it would look so pretty too, really colourful an-”

     Daryl stops, places the box on the ground, and turns to look at Jesus. He places one hand on either side of his face, squishing his soft cheeks and making them swell. Jesus makes a noise of protest and Daryl shushes him, leaning forward to kiss him softly. He pulls away after a few moments and Jesus takes in a short breath to speak again, but Daryl is one step ahead of him.

     “Uh, uh, shh…” Daryl hushes him again and goes in for another quick kiss. Jesus squeaks, honest to god squeaks, and Daryl does it again a couple of times. Shaking his head and shushing him between soft, pecking kisses.

     That’s the first time that Daryl initiated a kiss, and the first time that Jesus willingly shut up.


	29. Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ If you can believe it. Once again though, teetering on the edge, because I love sexual tension.

     Jesus is more than a little surprised when he’s practicing a high kick and his back suddenly seizes on him. Sharp pain shooting up his spine and making him crumble to the ground, balanced on his hands and knees. He’s glad that he’s at least outside of Hilltop’s walls and nobody caught his blunder. He chalks it up to lack of stretching and heads for the gates so that he can lie down for a few hours in the trailer. He keeps his hand pressed firmly to his lower back as he pads up the steps. Daryl’s sitting on the top one as he fiddles with a crumpled, unlit cigarette.

     “Hey.” Daryl sounds and Jesus nearly jumps out of his skin, not expecting him to speak first. He twists and another sharp pain races through his vertebrae. He gasps and leans forward a bit, then straightens out again, trying and failing to play it off. “‘S goin’ on?”

     “Oh, nothing, I just… ‘m getting old.” He jokes and Daryl snorts, pocketing his smoke.

     “‘S’it yer back?” Daryl asks and Jesus scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He nods and tries to shrug, but it just sends another wave of pain through his body.

     “Yeah, think I pulled something, just gonna lie down.” He groans and pushes through the door. Daryl follows after a couple of minutes and Jesus raises a brow in his direction as he leans on the table, fingernails scratching at the wood.

     “Just uh… where s’it hurt?” He grumbles and Jesus motions towards his lower back.

     “Starts here, but it travels upward, like a string of pain.” Jesus explains and Daryl motions for him to turn around fully. He hikes the back of Paul’s shirt up just enough to gain access to where he pointed. Jesus feels a bit shocked and more than a little flustered as Daryl’s hands start to knead at his muscles, like he’s done this before, but it feels too good for him to say anything. Daryl digs his thumbs in until he finds the point that makes Jesus squirm and starts to work it. Paul’s body moves too much in his standing position, so Daryl guides him to the wall nearest the front door. Jesus leans forward on his elbows and forearms, legs spread slightly for balance and head falling limp between his shoulders. He squeaks with pain occasionally, and Daryl mutters an apology, rubbing up and down the center of his back to compensate.

     The sharp pain starts to ebb away eventually, replaced with a dull ache and some tenderness from the deep treatment. He groans appreciatively, cheeks pinking at the unbidden noise. Daryl doesn’t notice, or doesn’t say anything if he does, because he keeps working over his back until Jesus practically feels like a big ball of jelly, legs weak and back warm. Daryl shoos him towards his bed and Jesus flops onto the mattress, landing on his stomach and stretching like a satisfied cat. Jesus thinks that Daryl’s left for about ten minutes, then the older man returns with a bundle of towels. He moves Paul’s shirt back up and places it on his lower back. Jesus instantly recognizes that it’s a hot water bottle wrapped in towels and sighs. Daryl sits on the edge of the bed and looks at Jesus through the corner of his eye.

     “… Ya gotta take better care ‘a yerself man…” Daryl mutters and Jesus closes his eyes.

     “Says you…” He slurs in his comfortable haze and distantly hears Daryl snort. Then the weight near his legs disappears and he drifts to sleep.


	30. Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Paul is actually a little body shy.

     Daryl really hadn’t expected Jesus to be the shyest out of the two of them when it came to undressing himself, but here they are. Daryl is sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, as Jesus paces in front of him, running one of his hands through his long hair. Daryl chews on his lower lip and stares down at himself, wondering what in the hell Jesus could be so worried about as compared to him. The ugly scars that litter every inch of his body practically scream at him every time he goes to take a shower, and somehow, Jesus is the one that’s nervous. Daryl takes a deep breath through his nose, and grabs Paul’s hands, standing the younger in front of him.

     “Take mine off first.” He grumbles nervously and Jesus looks down at him through thick lashes. He nods slowly and his hands slip from Daryl’s to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Daryl closes his eyes as the final button comes undone and Jesus pushes the cloth off his shoulders. There’s a moment of quiet where Paul’s hands just stay put on his shoulders as he drinks in the sight of him through the dim moonlight. He’s is continuously silent as he leans forward to press a gentle kiss on Daryl’s mouth and run his fingertips over the marred flesh on his chest.

     Daryl doesn’t push for him to take his off, just lets Jesus kiss him slowly and work up his own courage. He’s surprised at himself for being able to reveal his own body so easily, but it’s Paul, and Paul’s always been an exception to his rules. Broken down his walls, bared his soul. Paul’s hands wander to smooth over his back and Daryl sucks in a breath, muscles tensing. Jesus doesn’t flinch, giving both the new and old scars the same, loving treatment. Daryl sighs openly as the awful memories are rewritten with gentle touches.

     Jesus pulls his hands away and grabs the hem of his own shirt, breathing slowly as he finally pulls it over his head and tosses it. Daryl’s practically in awe as he rakes his eyes over Paul’s thin but muscled frame. Creamy white skin stretched over sinewy muscle, just a hint of abs teasing at his abdomen. He’s as thin as Daryl expected him to be, but well balanced. He sees one, two scars from bullet wounds. An entry and an exit, he assumes he’ll at least find one more to match on his back. There’s a few smaller scars as well that remind Daryl of either scratches or knife wounds. There’s a thin smattering of chest hair and a dark trail of pubic hairs that travel from his navel down to his boxer line. Daryl places his palm over Paul’s chest and is rewarded with a needy shiver, then Paul places his hand over Daryl’s and lets himself breathe again.

     Daryl leans forward and kisses the back of Paul’s hand, then the center of his chest. He trails across his torso as the younger man adjusts to his nakedness, eyes shut tight and the toes of his bare feet curling and stretching.

     To this day, Daryl still doesn’t know what either of them were worried about.


	31. Trix are for Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl and Jesus go grocery shopping together.

__

     Daryl is shocked that the entire cereal aisle at the Walmart they found a couple hours out from the Kingdom is still fully stocked. Untouched with a thick layer of dust on the top. Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp, Cheerios, Raisin bran, there’s a bit of everything. Sure, it’s going to be stale as all hell and milk is still relatively hard to procure, but that’s a lot of damn food. Daryl grins and hops up onto the bottom shelf, reaching up to drag in the first armload of boxes.

     Either he’s put more weight on the shelf than he meant to or it’s rusted to the point of destruction over time, because not only does the entire top row of cereal boxes fall, but the shelf goes down with it. The shelf underneath follows suite and they all land smack on top of him, pushing him to the ground and covering him in dust, metal shelving, and cereal boxes. Daryl will never admit to the string of curses that forces itself from his lips in that moment.

     “Daryl?!” Jesus whisper-yells and sees a puff of dust fly up from a few aisles over. He rushes around the corner, knives at the ready to take down the walker that so dared to threaten the larger man. He doesn’t mean to laugh. It just happens, really. He covers his mouth to try and stifle the giggles, but it’s too late. Daryl’s already heard him, and he looks pissed off.

     “Aw, don’t be like that.” Paul reassures through his laughter and skips over to him, pulling the first shelf off and leaning it up against the opposing, much emptier, shelves. Daryl shoves the second one off, embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He starts gathering up boxes quickly, tossing them in his cart and hoping that Jesus will just let it drop. He seems to do just that, bringing over a second cart and loading up the next row of cereal boxes silently.

     Daryl’s still not sure whether he’s relieved or pissed that the only person on that run with him was Jesus. Especially when Jesus keeps leaving bowls of dry cereal around Hilltop for him to find.


	32. Kids Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ The inevitable post/ children's chapter!!

     Daryl glares at the plastic stick, confused and, at some level, deeply disturbed. Paul is holding it between his fingers and facing the screen towards Daryl’s eyes. His jaw is locked tight and he’s refusing to look in Daryl’s direction, eyes boring a hole into the wall in front of him. He’s sat at the kitchen table, ankles crossed over each other and resting on the food-stained surface.

     “Wha-”

     “I don’t know Daryl…” Jesus seethes out and Daryl can’t even _breathe_ at this point. He blinks stupidly at the pink plus, eyes flicking over to Jesus, and then back to the pregnancy test.

     “That’s not… possible?” Daryl tries and Jesus huffs, looking up at the ceiling.

     “Look, we’re not exactly safe when we’re having sex, Daryl. The condoms we _do_ use are expired as hell, it was bound to happen at-”

     “By sex, you mean when I stick my dick in yer **_ass_** , right?” Daryl squeaks out and Jesus throws up his hands in exasperation. He places the test, face-up, on the table and drops his forehead to the hard surface. He crosses his arms together and buries his face in them, humming nervously into the crooks of his elbows. Daryl’s frozen in place. Torn between disbelieving, disturbed, and… should he be supportive here? Fuck, he’s got no clue.

     “I don’t know what we’re gonna do.” Jesus mutters and Daryl works up the strength to take a step forward. He places one of his hands on the table and leans forward, taking a closer look at the test. He tightens his jaw and looks back at his boyfriend.

     “Ya got Maggie ta help ya with this, didn’ ya?”

     Jesus is completely silent, not even seeming to breathe for a moment. Then he snorts. Daryl shoves at the side of his head and suddenly he’s laughing hysterically, arms wrapped around his stomach and head thrown back over his chair.

     “I didn’t- I didn’t even think it would _work_!” Jesus giggles and Daryl runs his trembling hands through his hair. Of course, there’s no way that was even a possibility, but some part of his brain still went into overdrive at the idea. “The test expired… _so_ long ago!” Jesus is still laughing as he explains his _brilliant_ prank and Daryl’s rolling his eyes as he catches his own breath. “I’m surprised it even read _anything_! Thank god, she’s _super_ pregnant right now. Hard for any test to miss!” Jesus finishes speaking and Daryl grabs the back of his coat threateningly.

     “Yer such a shit sometimes…” He murmurs under his breath and Jesus looks up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with mirth. Sea-green irises blink up at him mischievously and Daryl doesn’t know whether to strangle him or kiss him in that moment.

     He’s too strangely relieved to do either.


	33. Midnight Snack Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ Daryl and Jesus fall into a pattern of snacking together when they should really be sleeping

     Jesus is getting nervous. He’s knows he shouldn’t be. He used to eat his midnight snacks alone all the time, even before the world stopped spinning. But ever since Daryl started joining him, he hasn’t had to. Until tonight. He’s even brought out two granola bars, he planned on tossing one down to his surly companion upon his arrival. However, he hasn’t heard Daryl’s telltale near-silent footsteps coming down the road in over an hour and he’s starting to get worried. Maybe he’s sick of their usually nonsensical conversations? But if that were so, he would have stopped coming long ago, rather than a month in… wouldn’t he?

     So, he pockets his snacks and climbs down the roof. He hisses as he lands a little crooked and his ankle twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t feel sprained, but it’s sore. He starts walking down the road, still in his sleep clothes and messy hair. He makes it to Daryl’s house and maybe it’s a bit odd to be visiting so late at night, but he needs to know if he’s done something wrong. He peers through the window of the one-story abode. No movement. He thinks about knocking, but if Daryl is sleeping, he doesn’t want to wake him up. He tries the door handle instead. Locked. He could pick it open if he wanted, but his kit’s back at the house. He goes around the back.

     His eyes have already had plenty of time to adjust to the inky blackness of the cool night around him. So, he immediately notices the bulky, hunched over figure pressed against the wall. His cigarette dimly lights up his face in a warm, orange glow and he turns to look up at Jesus from where he’s squatting. He turns away, jaw going tight and forearms draped over his knees.

     Jesus takes a leap of faith and sits down next to him, pulling out his granola bar and finally unwrapping it, cause damnit he’s hungry. Daryl is silent and still, eyes flicking over to Jesus occasionally as he works through his snack slowly. Eventually, Jesus speaks.

     “You weren’t bothering me.” He says clearly and Daryl grunts. “Really, you weren’t.”

     “Was jus’ makin’ sure ya weren’t doin’ nothin’ suspicious… Happened to yer leg?”

     “Busted it jumping off the roof. So, you trust me now?” He asks as he stretches out his ankle.

     “That’s what ya pull from that…” He muses and takes a drag. “Yeah, I trust ya.”

     Jesus takes another bite and eats quietly for a moment. “Do I have to start actin’ suspicious again for you to keep showing up?” Daryl doesn’t say anything at that for a while, blowing smoke into the air above him. He shakes his head and clears his throat.

     “Ya can- ya can come visit me sometimes too. Jus’ be more careful…” He covers his mouth and motions to Jesus’ leg when he finishes speaking. Jesus turns to see the blush tinging his ears. He smiles softly, even though he knows Daryl can’t see it. He pulls his second granola bar out and places it on top of Daryl’s head. Daryl grunts again and picks it off, turning it in his hand.

     “I like our talks… I really do.” Jesus admits and Daryl finally turns to look at him head on.

     “… Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t sound like he believes either of them. Jesus knows there’s nothing he can say to convince him, so he doesn’t say anything at all.


	34. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl is romantic

     Daryl can be romantic. Jesus doesn’t give a damn what other people say, he knows this fact well. Like in the way he’s started keeping hair bands on his wrist in case Paul needs to tie his hair up. He also regularly opts to be the one to do it up for him. At first, he was terrible at it, giving up halfway through and just letting it fall into a ponytail. Now though, he’s perfect at it.

     He loves initiating table footsie as well. He used to blush furiously whenever Paul would start it up, and he still does whenever Paul is the instigator. But there have been nights where Paul will suddenly feel the bare sole of Daryl’s foot sliding from his ankle, up his shin, and then back down again like it _belongs_ there. Daryl’s face is always the picture of innocence as he spoons more spaghetti into his mouth and Paul flounders for words.

     It’s also strangely romantic the way he’ll wrap his arm protectively around Paul’s waist if the two of them pass by Alex when they’re at Hilltop. He’s been doing it from the very first time the ex-lover tried to make a move on Paul while Daryl was within eyesight. Even before they’d announced their relationship publicly. Paul is sure he even heard Daryl growl once. And it’s not as if him and Alex ended on bad terms, they’re still friendly to this day. Simply grew apart. And when Paul rejected him, he took it in stride, which might be why Daryl sees him as competition. Hot, blond nurse with baby-blue eyes and a gentleman’s personality to match, anybody would be a little intimidated. But, at the same time, anybody can see that Paul only has eyes for Daryl.

     Paul’s favourite gesture as of late has to be the folded, paper stars that he finds sitting on the bedside table in the mornings. He doesn’t know where or when Daryl learned how to make them. But over time, much like with doing up Paul’s hair, he’s gotten better. He can make them smaller and fuller now. He’s found different coloured paper as well. Pastel pinks, blues, and yellows mix together with the plain white that he usually uses.

     This time, there’s words on it. Jesus slowly unfolds the star, so as not to rip the paper. The words come into focus as he spreads out the strip and he smiles fondly.

     _“Be home soon Sunshine. I love you.”_

     Yes, Daryl can be romantic. And Jesus will literally knock out anybody who says otherwise.


	35. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl shows Paul the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am totally out of pre/ so from now on it's going to be a lot of post/  
> Sorry guys!

     Jesus yawned as he flexed his toes inside his boots, haphazardly laced up when his boyfriend had dragged him from their bed at around one in the morning and plopped him down on the dry, summer grass. He knew better than to question Daryl’s actions as the hunter rarely did things like this and if he was attempting something romantic, Jesus would go along with it until the very end. Even if it meant getting out of his ever-inviting bed and lying in the dirt.

     “Wanted ta show ya this, stars’r hardly ever this big.” Daryl confessed and Jesus smiled as he popped his neck, taking in the sight above him and finding himself agreeing with the rugged man. He’d never seen a night quite like this one.

     “It’s beautiful.” Jesus sighed and Daryl grunted in agreement. “Just like you.” He added.

     “Stop.” Daryl groaned and the scout laughed softly. They stayed silent for a moment before Daryl spoke again. “Love lookin’ at the sky like this…”

     “Y’know. I read somewhere that we’re all made of stardust.” Jesus mused absentmindedly.

     “Maybe thas why I like lookin’ at ya so much.” Daryl joked and Jesus could see his face practically glow scarlet, even through the darkness that surrounded them. He grinned at the hunter and scooted closer, wrapping his hand up in Daryl’s and squeezing tightly as his boyfriend began to point out all the constellations in the endless sky.

     He didn’t go back to sleep that night, but he didn’t regret a second of it.


	36. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Maggie watches the snow fall from her window in Barrington hosue

     It’s strangely and completely endearing watching the two of them. Their reactions so very different as they walk out of the trailer together. Maggie watches the couple from her lounger positioned on the first-floor window of Barrington House. She’s bundled herself up in fuzzy blankets and thick socks, mug of black tea held tightly in her hands.

     Jesus is staring up at the early morning sky in wonder, boots haphazardly slipped on and laces pooling at his feet. He’s still buttoning up his cargos, that have been tucked into his shoes, while Daryl shuffles up behind him. The older man is bundled up in a thick jacket, mittens, and toque, a fluffy scarf hanging from his shoulders as he maneuvers behind the smaller with a jacket open. Jesus makes a move to rush forward and Daryl grabs him, pulling him back and shoving the jacket in his direction again. Jesus slips his arms through as Daryl pulls a second pair of gloves and toque out of his own pockets. He gives them to Jesus, who rolls his eyes and puts them on.

     Jesus mutters something, but she can’t hear from so far away. A silent observer. Daryl hears it though, and his head snaps up to shoot Jesus a warning glare, which the younger just giggles at.

     Maggie chuckles as she watches Daryl pull his scarf off and wrap it around Paul’s neck. Paul leans forward and kisses Daryl on the tip of his nose, pulling back with a smug grin. Daryl flicks him between the eyes and looks him over, but Jesus is already running away into the blindingly white snow. Daryl throws his arms up in defeat and hops down the steps, cheeks flushed.

     Maggie takes a sip of her tea and tightens her jaw, looking over to Herschel’s crib with a dull ache resounding through her chest. She tries not to think about how she wishes Glenn were here to dote over their child in the same way that Daryl is doing for Jesus. She pushes the green-eyed monster that is jealousy to the back of her mind, counting the small blessings that she receives every day. Such as the one happening just outside her window now.

     Daryl is fixing up his own shoe laces and snow gear now. He’d obviously been too busy earlier trying to get Paul ready to get himself properly bundled. Maggie knows that she should say something to him about how Jesus is slowly sneaking up behind him. She should also say something about the basketball-sized ball of snow that Jesus is holding with a downright wicked grin spread across his face. Daryl looks like he’s just about to stand up from his bent position when Jesus jumps into the air and slams the snowball down on the back of Daryl’s head.

     “FUCK!” The curse is muffled, yet so clear through the frosted windows and Maggie covers her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. She continues to sip her tea as she watches them wrestle in the snow. Jesus receives a face wash and Daryl gets some snow shoved down the front of his pants, making him yelp and curse some more. He throws Jesus over his back, backs of his knees hooking over his shoulders as he shakes him by his ankles and jumps around. Jesus laughs maniacally and flails around, cheeks pinching up in joy that is rarely seen these days.

     “I wish you could see them Glenn… I really do.” She mutters to herself and gets up to wake Herschel for breakfast.


	37. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Jesus finds some sparklers

     “Ready?” Jesus asks through a wide grin that, even in the late sunset, Daryl can see clearly. Daryl’s cheeks pink a bit at the goofy smile, but he nods. Jesus strikes a match and presses it against the end of his sparkler. Once it starts to go off, he stomps the match out under his boot and presses the tip of his sparkler against Daryl’s.

     “Hey. Daryl. We’re-”

     “Don’t.” Daryl interrupts him before he can finish his completely inappropriate joke. His voice is stern, but his face gives him away as the corners of his mouth quirk up into a grin. Jesus pulls his sparkler away and squats as he watches it fizzle excitedly. The feint blue-white glow reflects off of his skin and clothes, flickering and making his eyes shimmer. Daryl squats down in front of him and faces his own towards the ground so that the sparks won’t jump out at him. Jesus sighs dejectedly after a couple seconds and frowns. Daryl looks up at him like he’d expected it, which really, he had.

     “I’ve shot a machine gun before…” Jesus says pointedly and Daryl snorts.

     “Bit of a downgrade?”

     “I’ve literally exploded a vehicle too, right over there.” Jesus thumbs in the direction of where he, Maggie, and Sasha destroyed the car left by the Saviors. “Well, Maggie ran it over.”

     “Me too, took out a tank back at the prison… Yer the one that wanted ta do this.”

     “Well, it was supposed to be a cute couple thing.” Jesus pouts as the sparklers crackle softly.

     “Things’ve changed. Our ‘date’ last week was a solo run.” Daryl reminds the younger man and Jesus nods, putting out his sparkler with a resigned sigh.

     “Just wanted to be a good boyfriend.” He looks up at Daryl with somber eyes and Daryl shakes his head. He puts out his own sparkler and stands them both up, wrapping Jesus up in a warm, reassuring embrace.

     “Perfect. Yer perfect ta me. Don’ gotta try so hard.”

     Jesus huffs indignantly and kicks at a small rock between his and Daryl’s feet. Daryl rolls his eyes and tightens his hold so that he can pick the smaller man up and shake him around a bit. Jesus just lets him do it for a while, so Daryl shakes him a bit harder. Eventually, Jesus groans exasperatedly and hugs him in return, small smile playing at his lips. Daryl pulls back just enough so he can kiss those lips, a quick peck. Then another, and a couple more. Jesus chuckles and Daryl takes that as a small victory, so he puts him back down.

     “Les’ go.” Daryl motions back to the trailer and Jesus follows, sneering back at his failed attempt of a date night, smoldering in the dirt to be cleaned up in the morning. He turns his head when Daryl kisses him below his ear and whispers. “I’ll show ya some _real_ fireworks inside.”


	38. Dance with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Daryl slowly gets more comfortable with music again

     Daryl’s not much of a dancer. After the Sanctuary, he’s not much into music either. Prefers silence, or the sounds of the outdoors. Rustling leaves and skittering animals. Anything but the blaring intensity of music. Especially pop.

     But for Paul, he’ll try anything twice. A hundred times if he needs to. Because he loves the way that Paul smiles when he dances with him. When they share a set of earbuds and he wraps his hand around Paul’s hip. Paul will tangle their fingers together and guide Daryl to sway with him. And just when the music is starting to make Daryl a little uncomfortable, Paul pulls him closer, and he knows he can last for another song.


	39. Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Just a "what-if-one-of-them-had-an-allergy" thing, I'm very aware we've seen Daryl munching on trail mix at SOME point

     It had to be peanut butter that he missed the most. On a sandwich, smothered over a stick of celery, in a chocolate peanut butter cup. Hell, even straight from the goddamn spoon. It had been one of his favourite foods to indulge in before and for a while after the end of the world. And then Daryl had turned away from it like it would grow a pair of teeth and take a chunk out of him, jumping to the other side of the room and covering his mouth. Paul was constantly on the lookout for EpiPen’s and peanut-free snacks since that moment. He also refused to indulge in the nutty treat and anything to do with nuts in general. He feels lucky that he learned about it early on in their relationship. He couldn’t imagine how guilty he would feel if he’d given Daryl an allergic reaction while they were kissing or becoming intimate.

     He furrows his brows as he glares at the snickers bar sitting on the otherwise barren shelf inside of the Walmart he's currently looting. He wants nothing more than to stuff his face with it, give in to the temptation of peanuts, caramel, and cookie covered in chocolate. But, he shoves it in his pocket, planning to gift it to one of the children of Hilltop and searching instead for a pack of Rolos or some jolly ranchers that he could indulge in.

     “Paul!” Daryl shouts at him from a couple aisles over and Paul skips over to meet up with him. He’s staring at a shelf filled with jars of slightly stale peanut butter and sneering to himself. “These uh… these’d be good for everybody else but-”

     “I’ll load ‘em up just in case babe, don’t worry about it.” Paul kisses his cheek and gathers them up in his arms, running back to drop them off in his own cart. Daryl grunts out a “thanks” when he returns and Paul smiles at him, sweet and forgiving. Daryl scratches at the back of his neck embarrassedly and Paul shakes his head. He kisses him again, on the lips this time, and runs his hand down Daryl’s bicep. “It’s nothing you should ever feel bad about Daryl.”

     “I know.” He grumbles but Paul knows he’s not even convincing himself with that statement. Paul drapes his arms over Daryl’s shoulders and crosses his wrists, he tilts his head as he brushes their noses together.

     “I, myself, have always hated peanut breath on a man when I’m kissing him.” Paul pecks him on his lips again and Daryl smiles, placing his hands on Paul’s hips.

     “Yeah?” Daryl hums and Paul nods slowly, smile gently pulling at his lips.

     “Mhmm, tastes awful anyway, it’s like licking the inside of a can of planter’s peanuts.” Paul explains as he nuzzles at Daryl’s nose and he chuckles. Daryl leans down and kisses the smaller man, tongue peaking out until Paul responds in turn. They stand there for a few minutes, maybe longer, just kissing and holding each other. It’s slow and sweet and it tastes somewhat like old cigarettes and Mentos, but he wouldn’t prefer it taste any other way.


	40. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post/ Couples movie night!

     “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

     Daryl laughed openly at his boyfriend’s outrageous reaction to another jump-scare flashing across the small television screen. Static crackled across the monitor as the found-footage style flick continued to the next scene and Jesus gripped onto Daryl like a small child hugging his mother’s leg at the mall.

     “Paul.” Daryl chuckled and the aforementioned man glared up at him with eyes so big Daryl might actually compare them to the moon, but he wasn’t that kind of sap. “We hunt the dead, every day. N’ THAT scared ya?” Another scream echoed through the crackling speaker on the front of the TV, yet the smaller man didn’t flinch, continuing to burn a hole in between Daryl’s eyes with his frustrated stare. The screaming and the gore never scared him, that kind of stuff never scared anybody anymore, even lil’ Ass Kicker could handle it like a pro.

     “I can see a walker coming, I wouldn’t let one sneak up on me to that extent.” Jesus reasoned, scrubbing his nose against Daryl’s shoulder and breathing in gently. “If anything gets that close to me, it’s because I let it. So yeah, it’s scary when something jumps out in front of my face.”

     “Fine, you pick tha movie next time then.” Daryl grumbled and wrapped his arm more tightly around Paul’s shoulders, pulling him snug against his body and planting a chaste kiss to his forehead. His attempt at being a comforting boyfriend. “I ain’t watchin’ no chick flicks though.” Daryl insisted and Paul laughed softly.

     “I’d never make you watch a romance movie, you’d lose your mind… and so would I.” Jesus began to mumble to himself absentmindedly, as he tended to do during their movie nights. “No matter what they do it drives me insane, whether they build it up slowly or just jump right into it, it never seems realistic… and the women are always so whiny! God, if I ever get as obnoxious as the girls in those movies, please just put a bullet in my brain.”

     “You know I don’ like when you joke about that shit.” Daryl reprimanded and Jesus sighed like he’d heard it a thousand times, but he nodded despite himself.

     “I know baby, I’m sorry.” Paul kissed Daryl’s shoulder in apology. “Can you pass me the stale twizzlers now?” Jesus returned the two to their comfortable back and forth in a heart beat, not liking when Daryl was upset, it happened far too often in this depressing world for him to be the cause of it. “They’re next to the stale skittles which are next to the flat ginger ale.” Jesus mocked and Daryl smirked down at him, tossing the package and snorting at the way he stuck a piece of licorice in his mouth and let it hang from his lips. Daryl flicked at his nose and the scout flinched, biting down on the sweet, red vine and stumbling to catch it as it fell from his mouth.

     “You ass.”


	41. Obvious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre/ It's obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, I found a pre/

     Daryl is in love with Paul. That much is obvious. To literally everybody.

     The way his eyes soften when they land on the scout. The way he prickles whenever Paul gets brought up in conversation, like he’s worried he’s been found out. To be fair, he has. But everybody knows Daryl too well to say it to his face. The way he smiles when he’s talking with him. Like there’s finally nothing wrong with the world. There’s no walkers banging at their walls. There’s no leftover Saviors scattered about Georgia, waiting for their chance to strike. There’s nothing. Nothing except for Paul and his dumb jokes and _obvious_ flirtations.

     It’s obvious that Daryl was thinking of Paul when he smuggled a WWJD mug into his bag while on a run with Rick. It’s obvious that Daryl was thinking of Paul when he pocketed a new, thick, winter beanie. And it’s very obvious that Daryl was thinking of Paul when it neared the younger man’s birthday and Daryl started checking the instant cake mix isles.

     Yes, it’s very obvious that Daryl is in love with Paul.

     Obvious to everybody except for the one person it truly matters to.

     Paul.


End file.
